The Orange Crystal
by Ember Nickel
Summary: Galen is an engineer, meticulously plotting every stroke of his plan. Bodhi is caught in his gravity. [Writing Rainbow: Orange treat for rosecake. Very loosely based on some MCU plot devices, but you shouldn't need to be familiar with those, I'm not either.]


My knowledge of the MCU goes about as far as "I Googled it and the thing in the suggested prompt was orange, which is good because I was hurting for a title." Caveat lector.

* * *

It's hard to impress Bodhi. He's flown through hyperspace and low-atmosphere gravity, seen the mammoth skeleton of the Empire's new weapon and the immense shadows of the Kyber Temple, heard the rhythmic precision of hundreds of Stormtroopers marching in unison and the unrelenting murmur of the desert winds.

But Galen Erso has. Galen's graying hair, his childlike enthusiasm as he explains a subtle principle of engineering, his patience with Bodhi's mistakes-or perhaps, his faith that Bodhi can be something more than what he is. Not that there is anything shameful about being a cargo pilot, but that a cargo pilot could be a great, a _good_ thing to be.

Bodhi is not as given to babbling in excitement as Galen-few could be-but there comes a night when he cannot leave without expressing how thankful he is to Galen for taking him under his wing. "I l-"

Galen raises a dry finger to Bodhi's lips. "Don't say things you don't mean."

"But I do," Bodhi says. "And you're one to talk, you can't shut up about me."

"You flatter an old man. Surely you have someone else."

"Don't sell yourself short. Krennic dotes on you, that's more impressive than a flyboy like me."

"He does." Galen sighs. "Though his affection is not exactly a voucher of his loyalty."

Bodhi wonders if he means to say more. Galen can be effusive in his love of systems architecture, and of Bodhi, but he is restrained at times, too. Always managing to avoid specifics when it comes to the Empire as an empire. But Galen sends him away for the night, and Bodhi does not argue.

It's a few days before Galen makes contact, this time through official channels. A low-priority travel assignment, authorizing his deployment to a small world in the Outer Rim. "There may be some dangers on the planetary surface," Galen says. "Please don't consider this an order."

"Who's the commanding officer?"

"Me."

"And the squadron?"

"You're looking at it."

"If you want to seduce me," Bodhi says, only half-caring whether anyone else hears, "there are more convenient travel destinations."

Galen's cheeks crinkle when he smiles. "Where's the fun in that?"

But the rest of Bodhi's stint is all business. Suddenly Galen has gotten him clearance to access incredibly technical documents. It's not enough to know how to ferry kyber from Jedha to Eadu; he has to be able to install it, too, as if he's some kind of mission scientist. He's pretty sure this is some kind of nepotism, but it sure doesn't feel like playing favorites. If anything, Galen's taking advantage of Bodhi's feelings to turn him into some kind of engineering droid.

His concern only deepens when they're cleared for takeoff, and Galen takes the jump into hyperspace as permission to reminisce. "My wife was a phenomenal exoplanetologist. She's the one who found this place."

"What?" Bodhi blurts. Yes, Galen had spoken of Lyra Erso, but only in brief responses to Krennic-never as a comparison.

"We were young at the time. She was, of course, besotten with me, and I-could not bring myself to take advantage of her."

"Take advantage?" Galen has his faults, of course; love has not blinded Bodhi to that. But he's taken things very slowly with Bodhi, not wanting to take advantage of his rank. Bodhi cannot imagine Galen ever having been less than gallant to his wife.

"But then we had a child, and that changed everything." This pricks Bodhi's attention; Krennic has never asked about Galen's daughter, and Galen has volunteered just as little. "My love for her was different than my love for Lyra, more...all-encompassing. I haven't seen her in over ten years, and I still love her, not knowing if she's alive."

"That's natural," says Bodhi. "For parents. Or so I hear." He can't help but snicker at his own joke. Who is he, to speak of fatherhood? But Galen only gives a grave look at the console.

Once they emerge into real space, Bodhi scans the small planet that's their programmed destination. There are no life-forms, and no sign of previous habitation. "Is it oxygenated?" he asks.

"I don't believe so," says Galen. "We didn't leave our spaceship, last time. I'd bring suits just in case."

"Where are we headed?" It looks as if there are some elevation changes; the side facing the tidal-locked moon is buffeted by craters, and sulfuric rivers flow near the north pole.

"I'm not entirely sure it matters. Wherever you think takeoff will be unimpeded."

_This_ is unlike Galen, who is meticulous enough to plan every blueprint down to the meter. But he does not protest as Bodhi sizes up a relatively flat area, guides the computer through the landing, suits up.

If he is ill at ease in a spacesuit on a barren world, Galen's form is almost comical. Having spent most of his career in barracks like those of Eadu, Galen is unprepared to deal with the gravity adjustment of walking in thick boots with an air canister on his back. He doesn't double or triple-check the oxygenation levels, either. It's as if not having Krennic looming over him has eroded all his rigor.

There's nothing different on the landscape, no silhouettes or shadows and definitely not anything alive. But a voice interrupts them anyway. "Galen Erso. I did not expect you to return."

"Who was that?" Bodhi whirls. "Show yourself, droid."

"I'm no droid," says the voice. "I'm a ghost."

"A ghost?" Galen has always been a pillar of rationality. He would not have led Bodhi here without just cause.

"Master Shile was once a Jedi," Galen explains, as if this is a perfectly ordinary situation. "She finds it difficult to speak to people who cannot manipulate the Force, but the presence of a special artifact magnifies her voice in the physical world."

"The Force," Bodhi repeats. "Okay. So this is like...a Guardians of the Whills kind of thing."

"Very much so," says the voice. Ghost. Shile. "The Whills revere the Force, and treasured the mighty kyber crystals of Jedha. We Jedi often used these crystals to make our lightsabers, but tried to be wise and take no more than one knight would use at a time. Now they are put to a different purpose."

"The Death Star," Galen says soberly. "The Empire strips Jedha not to break the spirits of the people-though I'm sure many appreciate that consequence-but to power the planet-killer."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," says Bodhi carefully.

"If I had refused Krennic, the work would have continued without me. Cooperate with him, for a time, and I could ensure there were flaws. Not visible at a quick glance, but enough to sabotage the station."

Bodhi gapes behind his spacesuit. Galen, who had seemed so honest in his profuse sentiment, a double agent? This was more than treading lightly; he'd been outright lying for years. A decade, maybe. When had he joined Krennic?

"The crystal hidden here is strong enough to power the main reactor, and delicate enough that it will shatter at a slight disturbance," Galen goes on. "This is why I enlisted you into some less-than-thrilling technical coursework. Once you retrieve the crystal, you'll need to install it in the heart of the Death Star."

"You flatter me," says Bodhi. "But I don't have a fraction of your skill. You'll have to do it yourself."

"You have enough," says Galen, and it's more somber than his normal accolades.

"The crystal is immensely powerful," says Shile. "Few could bear its weight, even among Jedi. In order to grasp it without being torn from real space, you must prove your strength."

"Strength?" says Bodhi. He's a pilot, not a Stormtrooper, but even he is a combat guru next to Galen.

"Strength of spirit. You must be willing to sacrifice the one you love most in the galaxy."

In all the galaxy. Galen had brought his wife. Had had a child, and loved her not knowing where she had journeyed. A parental love, a selfless love, that no one could compete with, not even Bodhi.

But Bodhi had loved Galen. Had been the first one in ten years to love him as deeply as Lyra had, and unlike Krennic, to love the principles that Galen had silently fought for.

"You bastard," Bodhi whispers. The engineer had found the solution, had conspired to arrange every piece of the puzzle. This type of tyranny might be even worse than Krennic's. At least Krennic had never lied to him.

"Afraid so," says Galen. "I don't blame you for being angry. That will probably make it easier."

"I'm not angry enough," Bodhi says. "Not enough to stop loving you."

"All things pass into the Force," says Shile. "Just because Galen no longer dwells in the galaxy does not mean he will cease to be, or cease to care for you."

"If that's supposed to help, it really doesn't."

"The Jedi were not always known for their emotional advice." There's no way for Bodhi to tell if that's Shile's species' idea of humor, hidden behind some invisible sabacc face.

So he stares up at Galen, who remains stoic in his helmet. "What's her name?"

"Who?" Galen says.

"Your daughter. So if I find her someday, I can blame her for not getting to be-" _The one who stayed behind,_ he can't finish. _The one who got to come to rest. To be free._

"Jyn," says Galen. "Jyn Erso. We called her Stardust."

His nickname for the Death Star files. Galen has been plotting his war from the inside for a decade, in his lost child's name.

Bodhi has done worse things in war, he reminds himself. He can grant Galen this. Reaching up, he unstraps Galen's helmet, setting it at his feet. Galen breathes something out into the vacuum-thanks? love? farewell?-and crumples to the ground.

Something small and bright and orange glimmers in the hollow of the helmet. It is light and smooth when Bodhi takes it into his hand.


End file.
